


a house so vast

by heyfightme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: A bit weird, M/M, a bit angsty, a bit fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfightme/pseuds/heyfightme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam says, “Bite me all you want, I’m going back to sleep.”</p>
<p>Ronan lets his forehead rest on the same place, dropping his body so that it is completely plastered over Adam’s. With the hand not gripping the keys, he weaves his fingers into the mess of Adam’s hair. He inhales, and everything is sweat and sun and the crisp, woodsy aftershave that Adam has started wearing.</p>
<p>Ronan’s entire being stutters. He could stay like this, easily.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.” <br/>- Pablo Neruda</p>
<p>Ronan feels left behind. Adam is taking what he deserves. They talk, in a way. A short thing about feelings and things unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a house so vast

On the night before Adam is supposed to leave for college, Ronan takes the keys to that piece of shit Parrish calls a car and folds them into his fist.

 

He does this while Adam is asleep, sprawled out over Ronan’s bed. Ronan lets his eyes linger over the bony knots of his spine, the angular jut of his shoulder blades, the ropy swell of his arms wrapped around the pillow. All of it is encased in that smooth golden skin, with the kind of candlelight glow that Ronan remembers when he dreams of light-making things.

 

He wants to put his hands on every inch of that glow.

 

It’s a moment before he remembers that he’s even _allowed_ to, that he doesn’t have to just _look_ any more, that Adam has touched his skin and gripped his hips and said “Yes, Ronan.”

 

He sits on the edge of the bed, keys to the Hondayota still clenched in his hand. He reaches out his other hand, fingers stretched, palm down, towards Adam’s back. He hovers, definitely imagining that he can feel the heat of that gold radiating up from Parrish’s skin.

 

“What’re you doin’?” It comes out a groan, muffled by the pillow, sleep-thick and low.

 

Ronan doesn’t answer, just closes his hand and drops it to the sheets beside Adam’s body.

 

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

 

Ronan can hear what’s behind that question. Can hear _are you having nightmares?_ and _are you drinking?_ and _are you sitting awake and hating yourself?_

“I’ve got better things to do.”

 

He launches himself across the bed and swings his leg over Adam’s middle, straddling his lower back. He brackets Adam with his arms, leans down, and grazes his teeth over the knob of spinal cord at the base of Adam’s neck.

 

Adam says, “Bite me all you want, I’m going back to sleep.”

 

Ronan lets his forehead rest on the same place, dropping his body so that it is completely plastered over Adam’s. With the hand not gripping the keys, he weaves his fingers into the mess of Adam’s hair. He inhales, and everything is sweat and sun and the crisp, woodsy aftershave that Adam has started wearing.

 

Ronan’s entire being stutters. He could stay like this, easily.

 

A hand lands on his bicep. Adam has dislodged one arm from the pillow, and is awkwardly reaching back to grasp at Ronan’s arm. The one holding the keys.

 

“You’re being weird,” Adam informs him. Ronan already knows this. “What are you thinking about?”

Ronan thinks of his father, always gone until he was gone forever, and his mother, shut down then shut away then shut off completely. He thinks of Declan taking Matthew, and the miles to D.C. He has a vague image of throwing a breathless boy out of a window, laughing like a jackal, but – it slips away. He thinks of Gansey, and Sargent, piling in to the Dream Pig with Henry Cheng and three backpacks and driving out of Henrietta as the sun rose one morning.

 

Adam’s keys dig in to his palm. He says, “Nothing.”

 

Adam sighs.

“Fine. I’m sleeping, then.”

 

Ronan shifts his face up and buries it in the junction between Adam’s neck and shoulder. The woodsy smell is strong here. He’s barely able to catch himself before “ _Don’t_ ” slips out of his mouth. It cracks in the middle, a poor impression of a word.

 

Adam tenses.

 

“Ronan, let me up.”

 

Ronan doesn’t, just pushes his own weight down on to Adam like he can fuse their bodies with the pressure. Adam grunts.

 

“Fine. I guess we’re doing this with me pressed face-down in to a pillow then. It’s probably better if I don’t have to look at _your_ damn face, anyway.” He pauses, and wriggles a bit. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

Ronan thinks dimly that part of what has gotten them here in the first place is how blunt Adam can be. He’s going to hammer Ronan to pieces one day.

 

Tomorrow, probably.

 

“You’re what’s wrong with me, Parrish.” Ronan feels it’s the truest thing he’s ever said.

“Well then I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Ronan rolls his eyes. “What the fuck you talking about?”

 

Adam sighs again, but this time it sounds genuinely irritated.

“I can’t believe you have the ability to be this dense. I’m talking about _this_ ,” he thumps his hand on Ronan’s pillow, “and, you know, _this_ ,” he reaches back and cups Ronan’s hand in his own hair, “and the fact that you’ve been sitting on top of me for five minutes and I haven’t physically thrown you off.”

“Like you could.”

“I’m in your _house_ , Ronan. I’m in your _bed_. Do you know me at all? Don’t you _get it_?”

Ronan drums his fingers on Adam’s skull.

 

When Adam speaks again, his voice has gone long and weary.

“I’m finally getting the things I want, Ronan. Don’t make me feel guilty for that.” He clears his throat. “I’m _allowed_ to be selfish sometimes.”

 

Ronan exhales, long and hard, into Adam’s neck. He feels raw.

“Then I get to be selfish too.”

Adam laughs, once, humourlessly. “When are you not selfish?”

Ronan loosens his hand, and Adam’s keys clink against each other. Adam shifts his head to look, eyes catching on the weak furl of Ronan’s fingers around the metal. He breathes out a small _oh_.

 

“I’m going to get a laptop from the university. It’ll be old, but I _will_ make sure it has a webcam. And you know I have a phone now, right? That’s the last thing you want to resort to, sure, but you may just have to suck it up. _And_ we both have cars, which can make the journey in a bit over six hours – probably under, if it’s you driving – and you know there’s literally nothing stopping you from getting on a freaking plane and – _mmph_ –“

Ronan has wrenched Adam’s head around, nearly tearing it off his neck, and smashed his lips into Adam’s. He pulls away and growls, “Shut up, Parrish,” then raises his body up off of Adam’s with arms planted on either side of his head. Adam takes the hint and flips himself over so that he’s looking up at Ronan, blue eyes steely bright.

 

Without giving him a chance to settle, Ronan drops himself back down – “ _Ow_ , fuck, Ronan” – and returns his mouth to Adam’s. He distantly registers the pressure of Adam’s fingers on the back of his head and on his neck. He leaves the keys on the sheets, grasps Adam’s hand, and pins it to the pillow beside Adam’s head.

 

His mouth is moving, ceaselessly. He bites. He licks. He pants in to Adam’s mouth, and Adam pants back.

 

He can feel the heat prickling along his arms, up through his legs and hips, down his torso. It’s leather seats on a summer’s day. He pushes himself up, hand still grasping Adam’s on the pillow, and looks down.

 

Adam is golden.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel as conflicted as Ronan does about him being the only one left in Henrietta. They're both entitled to be selfish.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr! I'm heyfightme there as well. I'm new everywhere and a total mess but I can be funny sometimes.


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